


faith

by irishais



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive
Genre: F/M, brought this over from tumblr bc of reasons, everything falls apart, feelsy feelsy reasons, i'm sorry but i'm not really sorry at all, sometimes you just gotta write the ship that fucks you up the most
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishais/pseuds/irishais
Summary: It's so hard to keep from losing it entirely. (For a moment, Nyx isn't sure what "it" he's talking about.) One-shot, Lunyx.





	faith

His fingers are rough with war, skipping along the taut-drawn strings, scattering an explosion of discordant notes into the quiet darkness of their campsite. The stars are out in full force tonight; Nyx turns his eyes away from them to figure out where his hands have gone wrong on the guitar between them. **  
**

It’s out of tune. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d fixed that particular issue, and doesn’t think his ears are any good for it now, still screaming with the muffled silence of bomb blasts and gunfire. Nyx walks his fingers up the neck of the guitar, tightening a peg just for show, trying again.

The second time, it sounds  _almost_  better. Almost like something familiar, something sent from home. He gets twenty seconds into the song before his fingers stumble again, sending it spilling, scattering.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright– you don’t have to…”

But he wants to, and that’s what frustrates him the most. He used to be– not great. But halfway decent, at least. Good enough for a guy who taught himself partly by ear, mostly through videos on the internet. Maybe it’s because it’s a Galahdian song that Nyx can’t make it work, his hands too bloody with betrayal and a dead king’s magic ( _hearth and home’s worth paying the price, ain’t it, boys?_ )

He loses the tune again to an echo of a gunshot, Crowe’s death mask. 

Luna watches him. Nyx draws on a reserve of courage that sits in the dark part of his chest, because disappointing her is scarier than fighting a thousand Nif invaders. Losing her is scarier than all that combined, but he won’t allow himself to think too far down that road. Not now, anyway.

They’re alive.

 _Play me something?_ Asked so nicely, her accent gentle and warm around the simple request; this shouldn’t be  _hard_. Nothing should be this difficult. 

They’re alive.

He’s not a  _great_  singer, so he doesn’t do much more than mutter the words, just loud enough to pick them out over every faltering handful of notes, and gets through the first chorus before he has to stop.

“That’s all I know,” he  _lies_ – lies, straight to her face, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere beyond her left shoulder as he sets the guitar aside, near the rest of their things scavenged from the city. He should’ve left this behind.

There are a lot of things he should’ve left behind, and his corpse is one of them.

Luna’s hands slide into his own to still their unexpected trembling, and his grip folds tight around the satin of her skin, warm from the fire that crackles bright and merry. Maybe he’ll feed the guitar to it later, when it starts to wane. One less thing to carry, after all.

“It’s alright,” she promises him in a quiet breath, nose brushing against his, lips coming close enough to touch, like he’s not the freakshow mess that he is, scarred up and hastily put back together and still looking like he’s going to tear apart at the seams.  “It’s alright.”

He wants to believe her.

Has to believe her.

Doesn’t know if he can.

“Have faith, right?” He tries to laugh, to banter back, but he is lost in the way she feels, how warm and solid and real she is against him.

_Where are your gods now?_

She closes the scant distance between them, and her kiss is something like a shooting star. He leans into her, chasing away old songs, scratched wood, ancient rings.

“Have faith,” Lunafreya murmurs against his mouth.

(I’m trying, princess.)


End file.
